He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother
by xoloveJBox
Summary: "We didn't speak, we didn't look at each other, we barely moved. We didn't need to, and honestly, it would have surprised me if Sam could remember how to." The first few hours after Jess's death were hard, and Lena does all she can to help her brother. Tag to Pilot, and my story 'Things that go Bump in the Night' Sisfic: don't like? Don't read! Please R R
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Hey guys :)**_

_**Alrighty, so this was originally going to be a one-shot, but once I started writing it turned out a lot longer than I had anticipated, so I've split it up a bit. It shouldn't be too long, just a few chapters, so it should all be up fairly soon :)**_

_**This will probably make more sense if you've read my sisfic 'Things that Go Bump in the Night' but I doubt there is a lot in here that will be unreadable without it. **_

_**I thought I'd try something different and make this in the 1st person, completely from Lena's point of view. I've never done that before, so if you hate it, let me know :)**_

_**Please please please let me know what you think! I'm totally open to constructive criticism and/or ideas/suggestions! I don't mind if you want to PM me instead of a review. The feedback is always so helpful!**_

_**OK, I'm going to stop babbling now I promise haha**_

_**Please R+R!**_

_**Peace!**_

_**xoloveJBox**_

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_**Chapter One.**_  
Flames licked at Sam's apartment, and smoke billowed into the sky. We'd only been in the apartment for a minute-two, at the most- but the smell still clung to my clothes and filled my nose. It wasn't cold, despite the late hour, but a shiver shot down my spine, and I pulled my jacket a little tighter around myself. Dean was next to me- I didn't need to look to know he was there- strong and comforting, and despite the fact that my eldest brother had always been a superhero to me, there was nothing anyone could do to change the scene in front of us.

It never ceased to amaze me the extent to which a tragedy could draw a crowd. The amount of people who had gathered to watch my brother's world literally go up in smoke made my stomach churn. The frivolous interest that they seemed to have while watching the fire-fighters battle the blaze was rivalled with a parade or a fair, and it was almost like they believed it was confetti flying from the window, rather than the last tattered shreds of what had been Sam's life for the past four years.

I couldn't even imagine what was going through Sam's head. We'd left him alone with his thoughts, but after a few more minutes, Dean tapped my shoulder and nodded towards our brother. Sam was rummaging restlessly in the trunk, and I had no idea what he could possibly need from there _right at that moment._

We turned away from the burning building, and walked gingerly over to our brother. There were tears in Sam's eyes, but none spilled over his cheeks. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say- if there was anything I _could _say- so I simply put my hand on his back gently, in the hopes that that it would provide him some comfort. It didn't seem to work as well as I planned, and Sam just ignored me, loading a rifle. Dean apparently was just as clueless as I was, and he just looked helplessly at Sam. Sammy glanced across at Dean, sighed and tossed the gun into the trunk.

"We've got work to do." He told us with a tone that was stronger and steelier than I had imagined he was capable of right there and then. It seemed like that as much co-ordination Sam could muster, because Dean had to usher him into the front seat of the car. I hurried after them, not wanting them to have to wait for me to get in before Dean could speed Sam away.

The radio came on with the engine, but I'm not sure any of us were really hearing it. I wasn't sure where to put my eyes, so I looked out the window. I could hear Sam's breathing quicken and grow ragged, and I knew that things were changing in Sam's headspace, that the events of the night were catching up and hitting him.

_Hard._

From a young age, I'd been taught how to read people, and since I spent so much time around them, my brothers were like picture books on the difficulty scale. Knowing when something was going on, when something was about to happen with them was as easy to me as breathing.

So when Sam choked out what sounded like a half-sob, half-yelp, I was ready to react.

Dean, however, had clearly not been anticipated the outburst, and as I unbuckled my seatbelt, I felt the car swerve slightly before he righted it. He looked at Sam with wide, surprised eyes, and he was evidently at a complete loss of what to do. Dean had never been good at dealing with feelings- it was something he shared with Dad- and since I was the girl, I was the one who had been allocated the role of dealing with the 'chick-flick moments'. Sam wasn't crying, but he was definitely starting to come apart at the seams.

It probably wasn't the best idea, particularly at the speed Dean was driving, but I clambered over the front seat, being careful not to kick either of my brothers in the head, and slotted myself between them.

"Keep going De," I told him as the car slowed slightly, and Sam continued to lose it "Don't stop."

It took Dean a second to register what I'd said, and then he pressed his foot down again. I pushed one hand into Sam's, and wrapped the other around his shoulder. He sat stiff under my touch, but I held him tightly all the same. Time seemed to drag painfully as Dean squealed into the first motel that was far enough away from the apartment building, but close enough that we were still in town. Dean got out to get a room, and Sam and I silently sat in the car. We didn't speak, we didn't look at each other, we barely moved. We didn't need to, and honestly, it would have surprised me if Sam could remember how to.

Dean came back and drove us around to the room. Nobody said a word as he parked, got out and came around to the other side of the car. I gently pulled my hands away from Sam, but only when I was sure that Dean had got him. Dean slowly eased Sam out of the impala, and I slid out after them.

"You got the bags?" Dean shot quietly at me. I nodded and went to the car's rear, but I took a second to watch my brothers as they went. Sam stumbled slightly, tripping over his own feet, but Dean kept him upright. I noticed that Dean only needed to keep one hand under Sam's elbow and the other lightly on Sam's back to keep his not so little brother on his feet. Dean could do that. The physical stuff, he could do. It had been years since I had seen Dean lead Sam anywhere by his elbow, and even then it had been because Sam was in trouble, or because Sam and Dad were arguing, and Dean wanted to separate them quicker. But there was no authoritive air about the way they slowly made their way to the motel door. There was only support and an attempt, fruitless as it was, at comfort. It almost seemed casual, in a weird kind of way, and I could all but hear Dean murmuring "One step at a time. Nice and easy Sammy."

I shook my head slightly, snapping myself back into the here and now. There were too many things that needed to be done, and the first was to get all the bags inside. I gathered them all up, determined not to have to make a second disruptive trip, and locked the impala behind me.

When I walked in, Dean was sitting Sam on the bed. He suggested that Sam take his jacket off, but Sam just stared blankly at the wall, like he wasn't even aware that Dean was there. In the end, Dean let him be and came over to help me salt the door and all the windows. All we knew for sure was that Jess had died pinned to the ceiling.

Just like Mom.

We certainly weren't taking any chances.

We probably put down more salt than was really necessary, but like I said, we weren't taking chances. When we were done, Dean fished around in his bag for clothes that might fit Sam, so that he could shower and change, but Sam was a considerable amount bigger than his older brother, and nothing was really suitable. I always kept a bottle of water in my bag, and I dug it out quickly. As I padded across to Sam, I unscrewed it, and held it out to my brother.

"Here," I said as gently as I could "Have some of this Sammy."

Sam didn't move. He didn't even act like he'd heard me. I took a deep breath and put the bottle in his hand, closing his fingers tightly around it. The motion seemed to snap Sam out of the trance that he seemed to have sunk into, and he did what I told him with shaky fingers. When he was done, he handed me back the bottle, and I left it on the bedside table for him. The shrieking of a cell phone made all three of us jump, and it took Sam a long minute to realise that it was his. He slowly pulled it out and looked at the small device like he didn't know what it was.

"You want to get it?" I asked gently, and Sam shook his head. I wordlessly took the phone and hung it up, leaving it next to the water bottle. However, no sooner had I set it down did it start vibrating again, and I saw my brother's eyes well up with fresh tears.

"Elena," he whispered helplessly "I can't...Please, make it stop."

Sam was over six foot and built like a bull, but he'd never looked more small and defenceless to me before. I wasn't even sure what to do, but I snatched the phone up anyway. Before I could disconnect a second call, Dean beaconed for me to give him the phone, and in one swift movement it was flying through the air and into Dean's hands, where Dean promptly walked out the door with it.

I guess word spread quickly on college campuses.

"You should get some sleep." I blurted. I needed to be doing something, saying something, to distract the both of us. Sam looked like he was struggling to keep it together, not that I could blame him, but I wanted him to sleep before the whole thing _really _hit him. We'd already had a long weekend tracking down the woman in white, so I knew that Sam must have been exhausted before he'd even gotten into his apartment. Sam was six years older than me, but we had always done whatever needed to be done to take care of each other, so I didn't even feel vaguely awkward when I crouched down in front of Sam and removed his shoes for him. It was plainly obvious that Sam was in a state of shock, more out of it than in; he didn't fight me, he didn't try to help me, he didn't even give me a bitch-face.

I'd have given anything to see his bitch-face right then.

Next I pulled Sam out of his coat and dumped it on the other bed. I thought about what to do with the rest of his clothes- they smelled like smoke, and I thought it would be best to get them gone and away from him- but even if Sam wasn't alert enough to be embarrassed right then, he would be eventually, and I didn't think he'd appreciate it very much.

"Come on Sammy." I cooed as I pushed him into a lying down position "Go to sleep."

For a second, Sam complied, but then he grabbed my arm and held on tight.

"No no no," he moaned "Lena, don't leave me. Please don't leave me. Don't leave me."

It was then that the crying started. I had been hoping that Sam would be permitted to get some rest before it began, but of course, Winchester luck could never let that happen. His sobs were heart-wrenchingly loud, and they left hid whole body trembling. Tears streamed down his cheeks, dragging streaks of ash and soot that I hadn't even noticed was there down his face. He gripped onto me like I was the only thing keeping his from slipping from the planet, and the only thing I could do was step out of my shoes and climb in next to him. Sam was lying down, but I barely had time to sit before I was pretty much cradling my gentle giant of a brother in my lap.

"It's ok Sam. I got you. I've got you."

For what felt like hours, I repeated the same things over and over. From the ferocity and extent of Sam's sobbing, I dreaded to think of the turmoil that must have been going on inside his head. I resisted the urge to tell Sam what my brothers had always told me when I was upset; 'It'll all be better when you wake up'.

Seriously? Who was I kidding? It certainly wasn't going to be sleep that made all _this _go away, though I wished harder than ever that it could be that easy.

Dean came in then, halted in the doorway by the sight in front of him. I could feel tears soaking through my shirt, and I shushed and rocked Sam, though it made no difference. I whispered soft assurances into the crown of his head and sealed them with kisses, but Sam was inconsolable, and all three of us knew it. Dean came over, and I felt the bed dip a little as he sat on the other side of Sam. He tentatively put a hand on Sam's arm, as if he wasn't sure that it was the right thing to do, but I suspected that Dean was willing to try anything at that point. I know I was. The cries ripped out of Sam's chest like I imagined the pain was ripped through his insides. It was unbearable to hear, so I could barely imagine what it actually _felt _like. Sam's life was crumbling around him. He was falling apart, and the only thing Dean and I could do was hold on tight and try and catch all the pieces before they got lost.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Howdy!**_

_**Ok, I was determined to post this chapter tonight (even though technically it's twenty to one in the morning here right now lol) **_

_**I told you this was going to be short :) I think it's going to be about five chapters, give or take, and I've got the third one written too. I don't think it'll be too much longer until it's finished. I just needed to satisfy my little muse and plot bunnies before they threatened to spew all over everything else in my brain haha**_

_**Right, I'm about to go to the land of nod. It would lovely to wake up to some reviews, good or bad...Hint hint lol Please, do let me know what you think though! The feedback is always hugely appreciated x**_

_**Peace,**_

_**xoloveJBox**_

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_**Chapter Two**_

The sun had risen by the time Sam fell asleep. Light flooded in through the cheap curtains, and I stifled a yawn. After a few hours, Sam's tears had died down to angry, exhausted hiccups. His grip had loosened, his desperation to stay grounded had faded, and I'd been able to let go of him a little. Now he was asleep with his head on my lap, his hand still in mine, and I carded my fingers lightly through his hair. Dean was sat on the opposite bed. Neither of us had slept, each vowing to stay awake with Sam, and a little while after Sammy had succumbed to his fatigue, Dean had switched on the TV. I'd growled at him, not wanting to risk even a chance of waking Sam up, and he'd quickly flicked it off again before I could bare my teeth.

"Well," Dean finally sighed, breaking the suffocating silence that had fallen over us "We should get out of here pretty soon."

"We'll wait until Sam wakes up, see what he wants us to do." I replied coolly, continuing to ghost my hand over Sam's head as he snored almost inaudibly.

"His girlfriend just died; he won't know what he wants." Dean retorted. We both held our breaths as Sam shifted, pulling away from me and turning over. I thought that he might have stirred, so I waited until I was sure he was still asleep before I got up and gratefully stretched out sore, tensed-up muscles. I could feel Dean's eyes ion me as I quietly walked across to my bag, grabbed my hairbrush and pulled it through my hair.

"I'm going to get Sam some clothes. I'll grab breakfast on the way back." I told him firmly, ignoring the comment. Dean, however, didn't seem ready to let it go.

"Elena," he grumbled at me in a warning tone.

"He's not four Dean," I sighed, refraining, just about, from rolling my eyes "Look, just see what he says, and if you don't think he's in the right headspace, we'll do whatever you think."

Dean scrutinised me for a long minute, apparently looking for a lie in my face, and nodded. I rubbed my eyes tiredly.

"She was on the ceiling Dean." I whispered. The fact had been playing over in my mind for hours, and I couldn't ignore it any longer.

"I know." Dean answered quietly, his brow creasing in a frown.

"You think it was a demon?" I asked gingerly. Dean simply shrugged. "You think it was _the _demon?" I asked the question, but I wasn't completely sure I wanted to know the answer. Dean seemed to know what I was thinking, so he didn't give me one, and I was grateful.

"You should grab some Z's for a while before Sam wakes up." Dean suggested, and I could tell from the dark circles under his eyes that that was what he planned to do. I considered it for a second and shook my head.

"They'll be plenty of time to sleep when Sam has some clothes." I answered with a small, weary smile. I grabbed my jacket and went to leave, but Dean's voice made me turn again. When I did, Dean tossed me the keys to the impala, and I grinned gratefully. I would have walked, but driving would make things so much easier and quicker. As soon as I got in Dean's car, I rolled down both the front windows and as I drove out the parking lot and along the main road, the sharp, cold breeze cleared my head and woke me up. It was needed and appreciated, especially since the roads were pretty clear from the early hour.

I started to spot stores along the street, and I began to put myself in Sam's way of thinking.

If I was Sam, where would I shop?

I wanted to get Sam clothes that were at least similar to the ones he would have bought for himself in the years since he'd left for college. I saw a few potential places, but they were either too high-end or low cost. Sam would have wanted to blend in as much as possible-it was what he had always wanted, more than anything, to be normal- and clothes which were too expensive or cheap would have made him stick out like a sore thumb. I had to drive around for a little longer, but it was worth it because I found the perfect place. I parked just as a short, stout woman was reaching up to unlock the door. She grinned warmly at me, but I wasn't exactly in the smiley mood, and she must have seen it in my face because she quickly lowered her gaze and scurried away as I walked in.

I hated shopping for myself, so shopping for someone else- my brother, no less- was horrific. However, if I knew Sam as well as I thought I did, regardless of whether or not we'd spent the last four years apart, this was probably the exact place Sam bought his clothes, because everything in there screamed Winchester. I could have chosen any item in the store and pictured it perfectly on either one of my brothers or my Dad. It made my job a lot easier; it meant that I only had to search out the right sizes to know that Sam at least wouldn't hate them. I liked to think that my fashion sense had been improved from Taylor's influence, but I suspected that it wouldn't take me long to lapse into the simplicity that my best friend had all but beaten out of me when it came to choosing clothes. She had obviously never tried hunting a Wendigo or a vampire in a skirt. Well, neither had I, but I imagined that it would prove quite difficult.

I could feel the sales assistants eyeing me curiously as I pulled item after item from the racks, and after another minute or two, one of them sidled up to me, an overly sweet beam on her face.

"Can I help you sweetheart?" she cooed, and I scowled. I hated pet names. The only people who could get away with it were Sam and Dean, and there wasn't much that they couldn't get away with. I plastered on a stupid grin and chimed a reply.

"No, thank you."

She seemed a little surprised when I simply carried on piling clothes over my arm. After a while, she scurried away and they continued to watch me shop.

As much as I hated it, the store was a haven in the situation. I got everything I needed; t-shirts, sweatpants, jeans, hoodies, underwear and a decent pair of boots. By the time I was done, I could barely see over the pile in my arms, and the employees almost looked relieved when I put everything on the counter. As the same overly perky woman started tallying up the cost of my items, I spotted a display of duffel bags, and I gratefully grabbed a good sized one of those too, adding it to my already bountiful purchase. I barely flinched when she told me the total cost, and pulled out one of the credit cards I had for emergencies and paid.

I really thought that I was going to have to make two trips to get everything in the car, but I just about made it, and the backseat was barely visible underneath all the bags. There was a warm sense of satisfaction knowing that a large portion of what I needed to do was done. I was even polite to the guy behind the counter in the diner when I got there a few minutes later. I didn't know what Sam would feel like eating, if he wanted to at all, so I got a bit of everything. When I kept adding things to my order, the pimply teen who served me looked like I'd just suggested we sail to France on a surfboard, but he bagged it all up and took my money anyway. I even accepted his offer to help me take it all to the car. The place was dismally empty, and he was too adorable to say no to.

"Nice car." He whistled as I reached out to take the tray of coffees from him.

Growing up around hunters, who mostly had seen too much crap for niceties, had left me with an appreciation for strangers who appeared to have a capacity to be pleasant, even if it was only a compliment on a car. Since the impala was a particular source of pride, even though it wasn't even my car, I would have usually at least attempted to make small talk with him, but I was too tired, and there were too many things going on. I thanked him and got into the car, trying to ignore the kicked puppy look on his face as I drove away.

I planned to go straight back to the motel after that. I really did, and it was simply a chance that I ended up taking the route that I did. It took a few seconds to register, but when it clicked in my head it seemed like the obvious thing to do.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Hey peeps!**_

_**This is probably the fastest I've updated for a while lol that's probably because my stupid plot and muse bunnies aren't letting me do any proper studying for my exams until this is done, evil little bleeders...**_

_**Anyway, I've only got one chapter left to write, and two chapters left to post. Short for me, eh? Haha.**_

_**I'm not going to babble, because I'm tired and want to go to bed lol Please let me know what you think! Reviews are always super appreciated! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! You know who you are, and I love you guys for it!**_

_**Peace,**_

_**xoloveJBox**_

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_**Chapter Three.**_

It had been only less than twelve hours since the last time I'd been outside Sam's apartment, but felt like a lifetime had passed. There were a lot less people around now, but there were still fire-fighters and officials going in and out. I'd thought that at least one person would try and stop me, but I walked through the door without a problem. The apartment was taped off, but there were people going under at a steady rate, and I simply followed their lead. It was amazing what you could get away with if you made people believe you were supposed to be there.

I'd never been inside Sam's apartment before- not unless you counted the time when it was more than half destroyed by the fire- but I would have liked to bet that it looked a damn sight better. The walls were blackened with ash and smoke, the carpets, rugs and curtains burned almost completely away, the furniture was diminished, and a bitter smell hung in the air. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't stop my eyes from drifting to the ceiling when I reached what had been Sam and Jess's bedroom.

"Excuse me Miss," A voice behind me made me jump, and I spun around to see a kind looking, reasonably young fire-fighter looking expectantly at me "Can I help you?"

"Oh, I, err... yes actually." I blurted "This was my brother's apartment" I explained "I was just wondering if there was anything left, anything I could take for him?"

The man's questioning glare softened with sympathy as he shook his head.

"I'm sorry." He apologized softly "there was nothing left. The girl that died, she was...?"

"His girlfriend." I replied, rubbing my eyes "Are you absolutely sure there's _nothing_ left for my brother?"

Looking around, I knew that the answer wasn't going to change. There was barely an _apartment _left, never mind anything else. However, before the fire-fighter could confirm my suspicions, another man, this one younger and in normal, civilian clothing sidled up to us.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," he started gingerly "but did you say you're Sam's sister?"

"What's it to you?" I snapped back, my voice laced with only half-intended hostility.

He smiled at me, which got my back up even more.

"My name's Luis." He told me quietly "I was-_am-_ a friend of Sam and-" The way his voice broke a little made me think he was being genuine, but if I'd let my guard down every time someone fed me a sob story, I wouldn't have reached the age of twelve. He must have seen the wariness in my face- I made it too intentionally obvious for him not to- but he just looked at me like it was no big deal.

"You're just like him, you know." Luis chuckled "It took me about six months to get more than two words outta Sam, and he used to look at me the exact same way."  
I made no effort to change my expression, and in the time this guy had been talking to me, the fire-fighter had walked away. I was a little annoyed; I hadn't finished talking to him.

"We must have had the same idea." Luis continued. I've got to admit, the way he spoke to me, like we were old friends, took me aback a little. I was used to talking to strangers, but they usually thought I was an intern to whatever cover my family were using at the time. I wasn't used to being '_me_' around someone I had never met before. Don't get me wrong, if I'd had time to come up with an alias before Luis had started talking to me, I would have.

"Great minds think alike, I guess." I replied stiffly and defensively.

"Did you ask how it started? The fire, I mean?" He asked, nodding towards the fire-fighter that was now giving orders to a few other people about how to make sure the ceiling didn't cave in on top of us all.

"No." I answered honestly.

"You didn't?" Luis seemed genuinely surprised, and I realised I had to do some quick thinking. I mean, my brother's girlfriend had just died in a fire, and I apparently wasn't even a little curious as to how it happened? Just because I strongly suspected- _no,_ I knew- that it had been some kind of demon, it didn't mean everyone was ready to accept that line of thinking.

"Would it make a difference?" I asked with a shrug, feigning nonchalance "What's done is done. Doesn't matter how it happened."

Luis chuckled lightly "You really are Sam Winchester's sister, huh?" I didn't answer because seriously? What was I supposed to say?

"How is Sam?" he asked suddenly. We started walking then, because there was no point in hanging around in the wrecked apartment if there was nothing I could salvage.

"Not so good." I answered solemnly. I still didn't totally trust this guy, but I was coming around. And besides, Sam being 'not so good' was kind of obvious, given the situation, so I wasn't really confirming more than anyone would have known.

"I tried to call him a couple of times since I found out what happened."

"Yeah, well," I answered "his cell phone wouldn't stop going off, so we switched it off."

"It was probably for the best." Luis agreed with a sad smile. "I was with them," he told me, his eyes hazing over with nostalgia "The day they met. Sam and I were roommates in our freshman year."

We stepped outside into the sun, usually warm for the time of year, and it seemed mocking, considering what had happened. I listened to Luis talk for a few minutes. It was nice, hearing stories about Sam in the time we had been apart. However, I was painfully aware of the time dragging past us, and I didn't want to be away from my brothers for too long.

"Look," I blurted, cutting him off mid-sentence "it's been nice talking to you, but I really need to get back."

Luis nodded understandingly "No, I get it," he replied "but I will need to talk to your brother about the funeral and things, so is there another number I could call him on?"

I thought for a second before conceding and pulling out my own cell phone. It would be easy enough to change my number if I needed to. I'd done it plenty of times over the years. I scrolled through my contacts list and handed over my phone, and Luis keyed in my number to his own phone.

"You got any other sisters?" Luis asked, apparently randomly. I scrunched up my face a little in confusion.

"No." I replied cautiously, waiting for him to explain.

"Then you must be Elena. Sam didn't talk about his family much, but when he did. It was always about you and your brother. Only good things though, I promise."  
We bade our goodbyes, and I was left with plenty to think about.

When I pulled back into the motel parking lot, there were only a handful of people around since it was still fairly early. I grabbed all the bags, and I saw the curtain of our room flicker slightly. A second later, Dean pulled open the door as I approached, looking at me incredulously.

"What, did you buy the whole store?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at me.

"Shut up." I replied simply as I quietly put all the bags on the table, spotting Sammy still cocooned in his bed sheets "Did he wake up at all?"

"Not really." Dean shrugged, peering into the bags "He stirred a couple of times, but that's it."

"Did _you _sleep?" I asked him as I started pulling clothes out of the bags and folding them into a pile.

"No," he answered, rubbing his eyes tiredly. I glared at him disapprovingly for a second before reaching across the table and handing him one of the take-away cups of coffee.

"You're an angel." Dean told me gratefully as he took a gulping sip. Before I had chance to respond, Sam yelped and shot up in his bed, panting hard and covered in a sheen of sweat like he'd just run a series of marathons.

"Hey Sammy," I called softly as Sam's eyes darted around wildly "You ok?"

"Elena?" Sam mumbled, looking at me with a confused glance.

"I'm right here Sam." I assured him, taking a few tentative steps to the end of the bed.

"She just got back." Dean added, stepping next to me "We're all here now."

Instead of being comforted by our words, Sam only seemed more alarmed, and he dove from the mattress, all but leaping over to us and grabbing my hand and Dean's shirt frantically.

"We've got to get out of here." He exclaimed, dragging us towards the door.

"Sam, what's going on?" Dean asked as we fought against our brother's attempts to get us out the room.

"Can't you smell it?!" Sam yelled back at us.

"Smell what?" I questioned as I tried to pry off Sam's painful grip on me.

"The smoke!" Sam screamed back. It took a second for it to piece together in my head, but when it did, I could have kicked myself for not getting it sooner.

"Sam, there's no smoke." I told him firmly "It's your clothes."

I ripped my hand put of Sam's and took his face in my hands to make him look at me "Sammy, look around." I ordered "there is _no _fire. You're ok, I promise you."

Sam halted and his eyes darted around the room wildly "No fire?" he whispered breathlessly.

"None at all." I assured him, and put one hand over the hand that still clung to Dean's shirt "How about we let go, huh?"

I watched as recognition dawned down on Sam and lit up his eyes. Dean slowly regained possession of his shirt, and he patted Sam comfortingly on the shoulder.

"Come on Sammy," he murmured softly as he led Sam towards the bathroom "I think it's time for you to take a shower. Le got you some clean clothes."

I waited with abated breath while Dean led Sam across the room, with very strict, firm instructions to get in the shower. I could tell from the way Sammy was blinking dazedly around the room, that he was only just waking up properly, that his minor freak out about an imaginary fire was just the last trailing remnant of a weird-ass dream. I carried on folding the clothes until I heard the shower start up and the bathroom door click shut. I heard Dean let out a long breath as he plopped himself down on one of the mattresses. I couldn't remember the last time either of us had slept, and I couldn't imagine that Sam's night had been very restful either, so we were all running on fumes.

Dean was quiet for a few minutes, and when I looked around at him, he was snoring blissfully. I left him to it and gathered up a pile of the clothes, and I padded across the room.

"Sam?" I called softly through the door, tapping my knuckles gently on the wood. I caught an almost imperceptible grunt, and I took it as an invitation to come in.

The room was full of steam, almost smothering, and I wondered if Sam had even thought to turn down the temperature if Dean had put it up too high for him.

"I'm going to put your clothes in the sink for you, ok?" I said as cheerfully as I dared. I didn't want Sam to think that I had simply shrugged off what had happened, like it meant nothing to me. However, I needn't have worried. He answered with another grunt, and it told me that, while he may have heard me, he wasn't really listening.

I quickly gathered up the clothes that Sam had taken off and left him alone in peace. I bagged Sam's smoky clothes, the reconsidered and wrapped them in three or four more, just in case, before simply tossing them in the trash. Even if I'd wanted to, it would have taken at least three washes to get rid of the burning smell that had clung to the material, and that wasn't the only thing they were tainted with anymore. No amount of washing and scrubbing would rid them of the memories they would always hold now, and I wasn't willing to put Sam through that. Not now, not ever.

Even when I'd been little, over-tiredness made me restless, and I found myself cleaning the motel room and setting out breakfast instead of following Dean's lead. I needed to be doing something to keep myself distracted, not just from what had happened the night before, but from the other issue that was weighing on my mind. The one that had started the whole weekend in the first place.

Where was Dad?

I slipped from the motel room, into the harsh crispness of the November morning, and pulled my phone out. I don't know what made me think Dad was going to answer. I knew that Dean wouldn't have fetched us if it was as simple as calling Dad. He would have tried it himself; probably a stupid amount of times, but that didn't stop me. However, the only thing that met me was the robotic, monotonous voice telling me that the phone was out of service. I tried again, and then again, without getting any different results, so I stuffed my cell back into my pocket irritably. I ran a hand through my hair and went back inside.

Sam was standing in the doorway of the bathroom when I entered, looking a little flustered.

"I thought you were gone." Sam sighed, evidently relieved when he saw me.

"I'm not going anywhere Sam." I told him gently.

"Where did you go?"

Sam seemed to be in an inquisitive mood, and it was the most he'd said since we'd dropped him off at Stanford, so I didn't want to discourage him.

"I was just outside, using the phone." I explained casually.

Sam furrowed his brow slightly "Who were you talking to?"

"Taylor." I lied. I was good at that. All three of us were, and I wasn't sure whether that was a feat or not. If Sam had been on top of his game, he'd have noticed that I wasn't telling the truth, probably one of the only people in the world who could, and I felt immensely guilty for using Sam's emotional instability to my advantage, but when he and Dad had parted four years earlier, they didn't exactly do it on pleasant terms, and I didn't know what effect mentioning Dad would've had at this point. "She was complaining about the rugs I left." I added. I'd learnt to be specific when I lied, even though Taylor really did hate my rugs. She had no idea that they were there to cover the Devil's traps I'd painted when I'd first arrived at school, so I knew that if I had spoken to her, she probably would have been complaining.

"You, err...you want some breakfast?" I asked a little awkwardly, motioning to the table. Sam shook his head, leaning tiredly against the wall, apparently the strength it had taken to just stand up in the shower was about all he could muster, and he slid down to sit on the floor. I grabbed the other coffee and my tea and walked over to him.

"Here," I said, holding the coffee out to him "Get it while it's still hot. I think."

Sam shot me a small, grateful smile and took it, sipping it gingerly, and I guessed that it at least wasn't freezing cold.

"You mind if I join you?" I nodded towards the gruesome looking carpet next to Sam, that under any other circumstances, I would have avoided at all costs until I knew that my shots were up-to-date.

"Knock yourself out." Sam offered quietly. The things I did for my brothers...

I followed Sam's lead and slid down the wall, hugging my knees to my chest. We sat for a few minutes in tentative silence, sipping our drinks. I chased a drop of my tea around the plastic lid of my cup absent-mindedly with my finger.

"I'm sorry Sam." I told him earnestly, realising that I hadn't said it yet.

"You didn't know her." Sam replied simply. It wasn't said harshly or sharply. Just pointing out a fact. Simple.

"I'm sorry for that too."

"She would have liked you." Sam told me breezily, like it was no big deal, but to me, it meant a lot.

"Thank you Sam."

"You're a lot like her." He carried on, as if he hadn't heard me, through he took my hand in his. "You both play with your hair when you're thinking, and you both know just how to get me to do whatever you want."

For hours we sat on that floor, and when Sam had exhausted the long list of ways in which Jess and I had been similar, he started telling me about lots of little day to day things about his life at Stanford. His eyes glazed over with nostalgia, but he even smiled and laughed at some of the stories he was telling me. He told me about the first time he met Jess, about their first date. He'd geeked out and took her to the beach to show her the constellations. Sam even let out a laugh when he told me that Jess had admitted, months later, that she'd already known the stars he was pointing out to her, but she'd just humoured him, apparently because she'd waited so long for my brother to ask her out. I think that Sam just needed someone to listen while he talked about Jess, and it made me feel productive, and more than a little humbled to be the one that Sam confided in.

I wondered, after a while, if Sam had been better of talking to his friends instead of me. Like he'd already pointed out, I'd never met Jess. Then I thought that his friends probably knew all the stories, they'd most likely been there for at least some of them.

And then it hit me. Sam was too good at what he did to let things slip if he didn't want me to know them. He was purposely pouring out all this information because he wanted me to understand how much of a wonderful person Jess was, how kind and smart she was. It made me realise just how much more pain Sam must be in than I had thought. I knew how hard it would have been for Sam to form a relationship, of any kind, once he'd left for college. It was just something that had been instilled into us from a young age, so I knew what a big thing it was that Sam had had someone he cared about so much.

And then she'd been cruelly taken away from him.

Sam didn't seem to remember that part as he talked, and I'd have listened forever if I thought it would change what had happened. I'd have done _anything_, if I thought it would change what had happened.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N: Hey folkes :)**_

_**Almost finished! Haha there's only one chapter after this one. I usually wait until I've finished the next chapter before posting anything, but I'm really struggling with the last chapter of this, so I thought I'd post anyway. It looks like Monday might be a snow day for me, meaning no college (YAY!) so I'm aiming to get it up monday night :D**_

_**I've read through this chapter, but if anyone spots any mistakes, feel free to name and shame them hehe**_

_**I'm thinking I might do a few more of these mini-story thingies, but only if pe**__**ople want them, so please, drop me a little review, let me know what you think! I'd love to hear what people like/dislike/absolutely hated with a burning infernal passion (- feel free to use those words if you want haha) but the feedback is alway so incredibly useful! Also, if anyone's got any ideas (not just for mini-stories, for any of my others too) drop me a PM or something!**_

_**Lots of love!**_

_**Peace,**_

_**xoloveJBox**_

* * *

**Chapter Four.**

The day passed doing...I don't even know what. Sam talked for hours about Jess, and even though I think he needed it, I would have kind of preferred it if he hadn't. It was kind of like a weight on my chest, knowing more about Jess. I felt less detached, less like I could _just _focus on Sam because it was the only part that I knew. Knowing what made Jess laugh, what made her cry, what she was passionate about and what bored her, built her up in my mind and made her real in a way she hadn't been before.

Sam seemed exhausted when he'd finished talking, but we stayed on the floor for what seemed like a long time. I probably was, but I had no way to tell. I didn't really care. We could have sat there for weeks and it wouldn't have made a difference to me.

When Dean woke up, and I knew that Sam wasn't going to be alone, I got into the shower. I peeled off my dirty clothes and left them in a pile on the floor. The shower was grimy, cringingly so, but I chose to ignore it because the water was hot, and it felt good to have the steamy jets beating against the stiffness of the sore, tense muscles beneath my skin. I was quick washing my hair and body, and I begrudgingly stepped out of the water, though I felt more awake. I dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and one of Dean's old Metallica shirts with a grey hooded sweater over the top. The copious layers of clothing made me feel more secure, and I allowed myself to revel in the feeling for a minute before going back out to my brothers.

I felt the change in atmosphere almost as soon as I stepped into the room. I could tell something was different, and I could tell, from years of experience, and the fact that both my brothers were shooting each other '_Dude, don't argue with me'_ glares, that they were having a serious disagreement about something.

"What's going on guys?" I asked casually, feigning nonchalance, though I don't know how successful I'd been.

"Sam wants to go out." Dean pushed through gritted teeth. I glanced at Sam, and saw a look of steely determination in his eyes that mirrored the night he had told Dad he was leaving to go to college.

"Go where?" I replied, looking directly at Sam so that I didn't give him the impression that we were ganging up on him.

"My apartment," Sam replied stiffly "I need to take a look at it."

I carried on drying my hair, rubbing with the towel since I'd left my hair dryer at school. "Sammy, I err..." I started, more than a little awkwardly "I went to your apartment this morning. There's nothing there."

I realised from the surprised looks on my brothers' faces that I probably should have mentioned going to the apartment, but it was too late to dwell on it.

"You sweep it for EMF?" Sam asked sharply.

"No." I admitted. Sam looked at Dean as if to say 'See? I told you so.'

"So we need to check it out." Sam snapped "It was the demon Dean, and if we wait much longer, we're going to lose the trail."

I looked at Dean uncertainly. Sam was right, and we all knew it, but that didn't mean that Dean and I had to like it. I shot Dean a glance that told me that I was leaving it up to him what we did. He searched Sam's face for a second; probably looking for some indication that it was a bad idea. He most likely found millions, but he sighed and nodded anyway. Sam seemed about as pleased as he could manage, and he silently grabbed his jacket, and mine to hurry us up, and it was a good job I could multi-task, because I had to tie my hair into a loose bun and slip my boots on before Sam dragged me from the room.

The car ride was uncomfortable at best. Out of all the stupid things we'd done, this was probably nearing the top of the list. I hoped that the apartment was emptier than it had been when I'd been there, because I doubted that Sam would think about subtly, and it was kind of hard to hide a homemade EMF reader without getting some strange looks.

When we pulled up, Sam barely waited for the car to stop before he got out. Dean and I had to hurry to keep up with him as he strode determinedly down the path and to the door.

Determination put Sam back in control his senses and movements for the first time in countless hours, and for everyone step Dean and I took, Sam took three. It was plain to see that he had built up walls to protect himself, but each second weakened them, and the longer he took, the closer they were to crumbling away and leaving him bare, leaving him exposed to face whatever the apartment might show him with no defences. The plan, apparently, was to get in and get out as quickly as possible. That, however, didn't work so well, because by the time Dean and I caught up, Sam was a little bit closer than I would have liked to punching the man in an ill-fitting suit that was trying to stop him from getting inside. Dean tried to make him step back, but Sam was getting more and more entangled in the web of confusion that was forming in his head. I looked around; following the basic training we'd grown up learning, searching for any kind of chink in the situation that we could use to our advantage. I glanced across as a few men came in from the other room and spotted the fire-fighter I'd spoken to earlier. He looked at me, then the occurrence unfolding with Sam, and he quickly stepped in.

"They're alright." He told the suited man firmly, with a strong, authoritive tone that left no room for negotiation. The man looked hesitant to move, but he did, letting the three of us inside, and I nodded a thanks to the fire-fighter as we passed.

I think I would have preferred it if Sam had been crying again to the look of sheer devastation on his face as he looked around. I kept my eyes on Sam as he toured the apartment, looking for signs that we should get out of there. To give him credit, Sam held it together a lot better than I would have imagined. Everyone who had been in the apartment-a lot less now than there had been that morning-had conjugated near the front door, and I was secretly relieved. It meant that we didn't have to worry about whether Sam had the capacity to be subtle and discrete at the moment, and it meant that he could do what the men were expecting him to do; try to come to terms with what had happened.

Sam strode definitely straight into the bedroom. Dean and I followed tentatively, though we both tried to hide our hesitance. Dean pushed the door closed with his foot when all three of us were inside, and Sam quickly pulled out our old EMF reader. The thing was battered and falling apart, we'd been using for years, as long as I could remember, but it still seemed to work well enough. All three of us were silent as Sam extended the antennae and slowly made his way around the room. The needle of the EMF reader flickered slightly, indicating the last remnants of traces still clinging to the walls stubbornly. Sam watched the little piece of metal twitch for a second before groaning exasperatedly, and shooting a glare at me.

"I can't believe you didn't think to check for EMF before you left." He hissed venomously.

"It wasn't exactly the most pressing matter on my mind Sam." I replied indignantly, feeling more hurt by the tone of his voice than I liked to admit.

"Yeah, well," Sam spat "Now we've lost the thing! Well done Elena, I hope you're happy."

"Sam, it was probably gone before you even got home last night," Dean argued quietly, though Sam continued to glower. I looked down in an attempt to avoid his gaze, but I could feel it burning a hole into my head, and it was something I'd never experienced from Sam before. Dad: all the time. Dean: on occasion. But Sam? Never.

"It's not Lena's fault." Dean finished firmly, but Sam had planted a seed of doubt in my head. Would it have made a difference? If I'd thought to check for signs of something supernatural, would we have caught it by now?

I must have let the uncertainty alter the facade of calmness that I'd plastered on for the last few hours, because Sam seemed to really jump on me then.

"Is this your first case or something?" He snarled, stepping closer to me. "This was basic Elena, and you couldn't even do that right."

"That's enough Sam." Dean barked, though Sam took no notice. I felt tears well up in my eyes that I tried to push back.

"Sam, I-" I started, but Sam just shook his head, a disgusted look on his face, and turned away.

"Just go and wait in the car Elena." He snapped angrily "Before you mess anything else up."

Three times. He'd called me Elena three times in a row. No one had ever done that before, had never gotten angry enough with me before to warrant it, not without getting punched in the face. Sam went back to sweeping the room with the little device, and I was left bewildered for a second. I looked across at Dean, hoping that he could help me understand just what exactly was going on, and he nodded for me to go. Silently, I left the room, then the apartment, and was outside the building before I dared take a breath.

I was determined not to cry. I was pretty sure Sammy would be doing enough of that for everyone. I really didn't need to contribute, so when I walked out the doors and was hit with a blast of brisk, cold air, I leaned against the wall of the building and closed my eyes, composing myself.

When I was sure that I wasn't going to burst into tears, I walked quickly over to the impala, and slid over the familiar, comforting leather of the backseat.

I tried not to take Sam's words to heart-he was sad and angry and a lot of other things-but I was tired and it was making me over-sensitive. I couldn't help but feel hurt at my brother's accusations. I couldn't help but let the thoughts slip into my head.

_What if? What if, what if, what if..._

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew the slamming of the car doors as Sam and Dean got back in. I rubbed my eyes and stretched stiffly as Dean pulled away and started driving. Sam was gazing distantly out the window, the cogs in his mind working almost deafeningly.

"Well," Dean sighed after a few minutes, feigning casualness. "That was pointless. I don't know about anyone else, but I could really use a beer. Sammy?"

Sam seemed to take a long second to tune back into the conversation, and he nodded and grunted in agreement.

"Yeah, great, let's do that." I commented, stifling a yawn.

"Not you Princess." Dean replied, glancing at me through the rear-view mirror. "You're going back to the motel to sleep."

"That...sounds like a good plan." I admitted, leaning back in my seat and watching as the town passed by in a blur.

I must have been a lot more tired than I'd thought, because I didn't even realise when we pulled up. Dean had to clear his throat loudly to get my attention.

"We won't be out late," Dean explained "Don't forget to salt the windows and door."

"Got it." I muttered sleepily as I went to get out the car.

"Le?"

"Yeah?" I replied, looking back at my oldest brother expectantly.

"Get some sleep. I mean it." He warned sternly.

"I will, I will." I assured him "Jeez."

"Angels on your pillow Princess."

I couldn't help but think that if there were angels on my pillow, they'd better move their asses because I wanted to get into bed, but I waved my brothers off and trudged across the parking lot to our room.

I moved on autopilot as I grabbed something to change into from my bag and went to bathroom to change. I left my clothes and shoes where they landed and padded over to the window, checking the salt lines we'd made the night before and pulling the curtains across. It was early evening, so it was still light outside, and the thin material didn't block out as much sun as I would have liked, but I wasn't complaining.

I fell into bed a minute later, after pouring a line of salt in front of the door. I pulled the quilt over me, but I'm pretty sure I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

A few hours later, I stirred just enough to hear shuffling movements and muffled voices that I instantly recognised as Dean warning Sam not to wake me up, but I jolted fully awake as Sam all but fell on top of me heavily. I blinked up and saw that the light behind the curtain was gone, that it was night time, so I must have slept for at least a few hours, though I felt no better for it.  
"Move over." Sam grumbled drowsily and in my sleepy state, I did as I was told until an unmistakeable and overwhelming stench of alcohol hit me like a fist.  
"Are you drunk?" I asked incredulously, though I got no answer, confirming my suspicions.  
"Why did you let him do that for?" I shot across at Dean, rubbing my eyes in the harsh light of the shadeless bulb of the room.  
"Elena, he's twenty-two." Dean replied wearily "If he wants to drink, I can't stop him."  
I could see in his face that he _had_ probably stopped Sam from having a lot of drinks more than he'd already had, and it was plainly obvious now that I was more awake that the crap about Sam being drunk because he was twenty-two was just that-_crap_. I could see the real reason in my brother's eyes as clearly as if he'd said it out loud. Dean felt sorry for Sam, and hadn't been able to deny him to oblivion that drinking copious amounts of alcohol would temporarily provide.

As much as I didn't really approve, it seemed to have worked to at least some degree, because Sam was blissfully dozing on the pillow next to me. I moved to get out of bed, but before my feet touched the floor, Sam was grabbing my arm and pulling me back.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you Lena," he slurred at me, his eyes half-closed "I shouldn't have taken it out on you and I'm sorry."  
I must have been silent for a half-second too long because I saw Sam's eyes fill with tears, and he gripped at my arm harder with a new found desperation.

"Tell me it's ok Le, because I really am sorry and I don't think I could deal with losing you too and it's not fair I shouldn't have taken it out on you and I..."

I didn't catch whatever the hell Sam said afterwards, because his ramble kind of merged into one noise and I didn't understand a word of it.

"Shhhhh, Sammy, it's ok. It's alright. I'm not mad. Just go to sleep, ok?" I assured him gently, trying to pry away my arm. Dean looked at me as if to say '_Dude, I really do not envy you right now_' and went into the bathroom.

"You shouldn't have bothered Le." Sam muttered almost inaudibly, pulling me back to lie down with him.

I complied and let Sam throw the covers back over the two of us, though he missed and just ended up messing them up. I moved to straighten them, but Sam held onto my arm tightly still, stopping me from moving so I figured I'd just wait until he fell sleep before sorting it out so that I could go back to sleep too.

"Shouldn't have bothered what Sammy?" I asked, furrowing my brow in confusion. Sam lay down and closed his eyes. I thought he'd succumbed to slumber before answering me, but then he muttered:

"Pulling me out of the apartment. You guys should have just left me there."

I spent a long, agonising second trying to let his chilling words sink in, trying to think of something I could say in response, but nothing came straight away, and Sam started to snore loudly before I had a chance.

Needless to say, I didn't sleep again for a long time that night.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Hey!  
Phew! Finally finished! I don't know why I struggled so much with this chapter but I really did. I've been determined to finish it for over a week now, but I never seemed to reach an ending point. Anyway, it's here now, my exams are finished, I'm going out with my friends tomorrow night (well, tonight, considering the time, but hey ho lol) and I'm an all-round happy girly right now :D  
**_

_**I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, so some feedback would be especially appreciated! I know I've said it before, but seriously guys, I'm perfectly happy with criticism and suggestions for improvement if you have any! Sometimes I flick through stuff that I wrote before I started writing fanfics, and most of it's just general crap because I feel like the comments I've had from various people on various stories have helped me so much.**_

_**I want to say thanks to anyone who's take the time to read this, a bigger cheers to the people who have reviewed, but the biggest, most heart-felt thank you to wondertogondor and sweetkiwi604! They are both seriously lovely people, and without their help, I doubt I would have gotten past the first chapter of 'Things that go bump in the night'. If you haven't read any of their work, go check it out, because that is some good stuff right there! haha**_

_**I'm gonna shut up now haha R+R**_

_**Peace,**_

_**xoloveJBox**_

* * *

_**Chapter Five.**_

With Sam's words dashing erratically around my head, it was hard for me to fall asleep again, but I eventually did because my body left me with no other choice. Though 'sleep' was a loose term for it. It was plagued with nightmares of arriving too late, of not being able to get Sam out of the apartment. I thrashed around the bed in protest to the images in my brain, I know I did, and if Sam hadn't drank so much, I would have woken him up. However, the alcohol kept him in peaceful oblivion, or, at least, what I hoped was peaceful, because I'd keep my nightmares, and a hundred times worse, if it meant that Sam could get a night of undisturbed slumber.

I woke up countless times that night, but the first time I woke up and saw daylight out the window was because Dean was nudging me into consciousness with my cell phone in his hand. I blinked up at him and rubbed my eyes groggily.

"It's some guy," Dean told me quietly, though from the intensity of Sam's snores, that were currently shaking the walls, I guessed that we could have started up a whole marching band and Sam wouldn't have stirred "Luis, I think he said his name was."

Suddenly a lot more awake, I shot from the bed and took the phone.

Ten minutes and thirty-three seconds. That's how long it took Luis to tell me the details of Jess's funeral. I scribbled it all down in one of the pads of motel stationary on the table, being careful to get it all down correctly and legibly. Apparently, Jess was a local-her parents lived in a town a little over a half-hour away from Stanford- so she was being buried there too. I double checked the location of the church, hoping that Sam would know where it was.

When I was sure that I'd gotten down all the details right, Luis and I said goodbye, and I hung up. Dean had been hovering behind me for the entire conversation, reading over my shoulder, so I didn't need to relay anything to him.

"You know where this is?" I asked him, pointing out the address. If I was honest, I suspected that Sam would know where it was, but I didn't think he'd be up for talking, never mind directing us to his own girlfriend's funeral.

"No, but I can find out." Dean replied determinedly, apparently having the same thoughts as me as he pulled out the laptop.

I grabbed clothes and went to the bathroom to change. I splashed cold water on my face and brushed my hair. They were all things that were entirely ordinary, but they had never felt more alien to me. It was like each move was unnatural, and I had to concentrate to make my body follow my instructions.

When I was done, I went back out to the room. Sam continued to snore; Dean still tapped away at the keys. It should have been easy, to feel normal in that moment. I mean, what was so weird about one brother sleeping, and the other using the laptop? Oh yeah, it was my life, that's what.

"I'm going to get soda from the machine," I told Dean as I tugged on my boots "You want anything?"

"Sure, thanks," Dean replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out some money "Here."

"I got it." I assured him, but Dean shot me the '_Don't argue with me_' look, and held it out further "Thanks." I answered as I begrudgingly took it. Dean didn't know it, but I'd saved a fair amount of money while I'd been at school, squirreling it away because even though I hadn't hunted with them for a long time, and I didn't know what was going to happen after I graduated, I did know that hustling pool and credit card scams weren't going to work forever. It was my rainy day money, and knowing that it was hidden away in the bottom of my duffel, tucked into an old pair of socks, made me feel guilty for taking Dean's money for something as trivial as a few cans of coke.

I pulled on Dean's jacket because it was bigger and warmer than mine, and it was the first one I grabbed, and closed the door quietly behind myself.

The morning air was cool and brisk, more so than I expected, and I hurried across the parking lot to the drinks machine. I doubted there were many other people at the motel-it was the wrong time of year for tourists, and it wasn't exactly a five star hotel-but I somehow managed to use the machine at the same time as a group of four or five other people. I stood behind them, dithering in the cold, and when it was finally my turn, the machine was temperamental at best. It eventually churned out the three cans I had paid for, and I stuffed them, along with my hands, into my pocket.

I'd worried about how best to bring up the topic of the funeral to tell Sam, but I needn't have. When I walked back in, Sam was stood at the table, his eyes still puffy with sleep, peering at the notepad I'd written everything on. The way he squinted at it told me he had a headache, but the hollow, almost vacant look in his eyes let me know that he understood what it was about, even if he didn't want to. Dean was watching him tentatively, though he pretended that he wasn't. He was like that, like letting it show that he cared would ruin his 'image', but there was something covertly comforting in his hidden protectiveness.

I decided to take the same approach because otherwise, I was running out of ideas, and I feux-casually strode across the room to empty out my pockets. Sammy glanced at me, then nodded at the page. He opened his mouth to speak, but it was like he couldn't push the words out, so he cleared his throat and tried again.

"When is it?" he asked quietly, keeping his eyes low, like he couldn't quite bring himself to look at me.

For the first time in my life, I kind of felt the same way about Sam.

"Tomorrow." I replied gingerly.

There was a moment of stillness, where none us spoke or moved. Then Sam let out a shaky breath, ran a hand through his hair and muttered something about taking a shower. He eased the door closed, but it rang louder than if he'd slammed it shut, kicking and screaming. I'd have preferred that, because I was pretty sure my heard was going to fall out my stomach when, a second after the shower came on, Sam's sobs emanated through the door.

Sam came out a little over an hour later. It was obvious that he hadn't actually showered at all, but neither Dean nor I said anything. It didn't really matter. Sam seemed to have gotten a hold on himself pretty well, but that only made everything seem more tragic really. He shouldn't have had to. Sam shouldn't know what it felt like to have someone ripped away from him so cruelly, and he most definitely should not have felt like he had to hide out in a dingy motel bathroom to cry about it.

More than ever, I felt enraged at my dad, and the wholly stupid-ass rules he'd drilled into us for as long as I could remember, one of the most 'important' being, don't show emotions. Emotions get you killed. Like hell they did! However, no matter how angry I felt, I kept my face set in neutral. Sam didn't need that on top of everything else.

Sam didn't say a word for a long time. He went straight to his bag and rooted through it. When he didn't find what he was looking for, he turned to me.

"I don't have a suit." He told me simply. I wasn't used to Sam sounding so childlike, and it threw me off. I took a second for my brain to catch up with what my ears were hearing.

"We'll get you a suit Sam." I replied when my head connected back up with my mouth. Man, I really needed to get out of the motel room.

"I, err..." Sam started nervously, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck and jamming the other hand into the pocket of his jeans "I was thinking, will you guys come with me tomorrow? I don't think I could go on my own."

Dean didn't even hesitate "Of course we will, if that's what you want."

Sam gave a small nod, and that was the end of the conversation.

Over the course of our lives, my brothers and I had somehow developed a way of communicating without actually saying anything. We were all just kind of attuned to each other. So letting each other know that were ready to go out was just a series of movements; I'd put my shoes on, a while later Dean would put his car keys in his pocket, and Sam would move his jacket around the room until we were done, ready to grab at a moment's notice. We didn't always do the same things, or in the same order- we'd never been _that _organised. But it made situations like this one-where words would only draw attention to the unwanted cause of our trip- a lot easier to deal with. Sam needed a suit, I needed a dress, and all for the funeral of the biggest, most important thing Sam had ever done for _himself_. In that respect, Jess had been so much more significant than going to college, spending a whole night screaming with Dad about it, and Dad telling Sam not to bother coming back. Jess was the embodiment of everything Sam had ever wanted, probably ever _would _want. It was weird to think that the last thing Sam would do for her was buy a suit for her funeral.

In most ways, Dean and I were very similar, we always had been, but in one or two ways, we were the polar opposites. I cared what _everyone _thought, and Dean didn't care what anyone thought. Except Sam.

Sam's perception of his big brother was important to Dean, even if neither of them showed it, which is why Dean planned to buy a new suit too, despite the fact that he didn't need one. The suit that Dean had was for cases, where a tie and jacket made everyone more loose-lipped than they normally would be. When cops and insurance companies mattered, but they were all acts. Dean didn't want Sam to think that his condolences and feelings of upset about Jess's death were acts, so he needed a new suit to show that they were separate and real, and I couldn't help but feel proud that no matter how hard Dean could be on Sam, how much they wound each other up and pissed each other off, Dean could step up and be there when it counted.

It was sad that Sam had to give us directions to the store he thought was best. As if the reason we were going wasn't bad enough.

When we got inside, we were greeted by a way over-excited guy in a tacky suit. I'm surprised that at least one of my brothers didn't punch him, and Dean told him in less than polite, perfectly clear terms to go away. He pouted indignantly at us for an annoyingly long second before skulking away.

I looked at Dean, and he nodded. Sam was already browsing, set in the task at hand. I couldn't blame him; the quicker we got started, the quicker we'd be done and he could leave. The store was split into men's and women's clothes, so Dean followed after Sammy and I wandered off to the other side.

Looking through the dresses and skirts, I realised I was totally out of my league. I'd never even been to a hunter's funeral, never mind a 'normal' person's. I had no idea what I was doing, so I started to make a list of the things I needed in my head; a dress, tights, shoes, a cardigan or something to go over the top. The nearest thing I had to a coat was my brown leather jacket, a slightly more feminine version of Dean's, and I didn't exactly think that it was appropriate for the situation, so that was added too. I wanted to be able to phone Taylor and ask her about the dresses, but seriously, what was I supposed to say? _'Help me choose a dress for the funeral of my brother's girlfriend, a woman who I never met and may or may not have been killed by the same demon that killed my mother? Pleated skirt or short sleeves?'_

In my head, I scoffed at my own incredulity. It was ridiculous for me to believe that anyone in our family would have the luxury of being able to phone friends when we needed advice. It was stupid to think that, in the end, any of us would be able to have _friends_. It just wasn't the Winchester way. Wasn't the hunter way, and this whole thing just proved it.  
In the end, I chose a plain black dress that came to just below my knees. I didn't want it to look like I'd just picked any without much thought, but the truth was, that's exactly what I did. After grabbing a pair of flat shoes, tights and a half-length cardigan, I went back in search of my brothers.

Dean was stood in front of a full length mirror, adjusting his tie and grimacing at his own reflection. Dean was never comfortable in anything other than jeans.

"Hey," he grumbled when he spotted me.

"Hey," I replied as I layed my dress out on one of the flashy couches that looked nice, but was probably less comfortable than a plank of wood "Is that the one you're getting?"  
Dean nodded and I looked around.

"Where's Sammy?"

"He went to wait in the car." Dean answered "You want to go sit with him? I can get these."

I thought for a second, wondering if Sam would want to be alone, but then I guessed that he'd send me away if he did, so I nodded. Dean picked up another suit-presumably Sam's-and put it with my clothes, so I went out the door.

I saw Sam, hunched over in the front seat of the impala, and I walked tentatively over. He looked up and spotted me just before I got to the car, but he shot me a weak smile, and I took it as a good sign. Well, as good as we were going to get. I clambered into the backseat, and the first thing I noticed was that I was pretty sure it was colder inside the car than outside.

"Jeez Sammy, it's freezing in here." I commented, leaning over the front seat and fiddling with the dials to turn on the heating.

"I didn't notice." Sam mumbled distractedly before blurting "Look, Le, I really am sorry about yelling at you yesterday."

His apology caught me off guard, and I wasn't sure whether or not he remembered what he'd said last night, so I didn't really know what to say.

I finally settled on "It's ok, Sam, really."

He looked at me with such intensity and determination to make me accept his apology, I almost didn't believe it was possible for anyone to look like that.

"No it's not Lena. I was mad, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you." He stopped and took a breath, but he looked like he was going to say something else, so I stayed silent and waited for him to carry on.

"The truth is, for the last couple of days, I've been mad _all _the _time, _and I don't know how to switch it off, so please, if I say anything else, just ignore me, ok?"

I reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently, hoping to be reassuring.

"Don't worry Sammy, it's already forgotten."

Again, he gave me _that look, _and I swear I felt my heart shatter in my chest.

For a long few seconds we stayed like that, with me dangling over the front seat holding Sam's hand, and it was a rare moment of calmness. Sam leaned his head on the window and looked like he was about to fall asleep, but he kept a firm grip on my hand, like he wasn't quite ready to let go. I stayed where I was and let the silence wash over us.

Well, that only lasted until Dean came bustling over to the car, laden with bags, complaining about the cashier. He stopped when he saw me and Sam, but Sam had already snatched his hand away and scrubbed it over his face. I sat back like it was no big deal, Dean put the clothes on the backseat next to me, and we peeled away from the store in total silence.  
The next day, we rose to fat raindrops smacking the windows.

Brilliant, I thought sarcastically, as if the day wasn't going to be bad enough. It was eight-thirty, and we had to leave at ten, so I got straight up. I could hear the shower gushing in the bathroom, and there was a scribbled note from Dean on the table. He'd gone out to get breakfast, but I doubted there would be much point.

Sam took a long time in the shower, composing himself I guess. Dean got back before Sam got out, and I'd flicked the TV on for a bit of background noise, for a distraction.

Dean bustled in, shot me a hurried grin before dumping the bags on the table and brushing the water drops from his jacket. I'd been sat on one of the beds, cross-legged, brushing my hair.

"Morning Princess." He greeted quietly as he took off his jacket, revealing the fact that he was already clad in his suit.

"You're dressed already?" I yawned as I stretched out.

"Yeah, well, early bird and all that." He shrugged, reaching into a bag and pulling out a paper cup "Tea?"

"Thanks," I replied, taking it gratefully and letting the heat radiating from it warm my fingertips.

"I don't know what you can't drink coffee like a normal person." Dean commented, taking a sip from another cup.

"It's because it's gross, that's why." I answered dryly.

Neither of us had noticed that the shower had shut off, and before anything else was said, Sam emerged.

His face was pale and pasty, though his eyes were red raw. His hair dangled loosely over his face, still slightly damp and curling at the ends. He was wearing his white shirt-only half way done up- and the pants to his suit. He leaned against the door frame, like he wasn't quite ready to trust his feet to keep him upright.

"What time is it?" he mumbled, rubbing a weary hand over his eyes.

Dean looked down at his watch "Eight forty-five."

Sam's eyes flickered over to me, still in my pyjamas "Lena, go get ready, or we'll be late." He said quietly, though a little more firmly than he really needed to. It almost gave the impression that he had to work harder to get his voice out in one piece. I nodded earnestly and quickly gathered up my things, scurrying with them to the bathroom.

I showered quickly and wrapped my hair in a towel. I slipped the dress over my head and pulled the tights over my knobbly knees. You'd think that after almost four years of wearing a skirt for five days a week as part of my school uniform, I'd be used to it by now, but I was just as uncomfortably every time I had to do it.

My glasses were next, despite the fact that I hated them. None of us had gotten any decent sleep for a few days, and being tired was making my head and eyes hurt, and my glasses took a little pressure off. I dried my hair as best I could with the towel, and tied it into a loose bun, leaving only my thick side fringe to fall over my face.

Deciding that I looked at least part way presentable, I left the bathroom.

It was eerily quiet in the main area of our motel room. Someone had switched the TV off, and it made me realise why I had put it on in the first place. The vast silence in the room was oppressive and suffocating, and the gentle thrum of the mindless chatter from the ancient box had been enough to fill it.

Dean had disappeared again- I had no idea where he kept going- and Sam was sat at the table. The air around him screamed '_don't come near me'_, so I went to the other side of the room and stepped into my shoes instead. I would have left Sam alone until he decided he needed me, because I knew the last thing he wanted was for me to be pushy, but when I recognised the bottle of whiskey that Dean kept stashed in the bottom of his bag in front of him, I knew I couldn't let him do that to himself. As much as I wanted Sam to be as painless as possible, I knew he'd regret it if he turned up drunk, and it would end up being so much worse than it already was.

I strode across and reached out for the bottle, but Sam snatched it away, apparently anticipating my mood. However, I guessed that he'd already had one or two, because he was slower than usual, and the bottle ended up caught between us, each gripping it tightly, hoping the other would let go without an argument.

"Lena, leave me alone," Sam hissed at me, glaring at me with a flash of malice.

"Sam, you don't wanna do this." I told him, holding his gaze defiantly.

Sam rolled his eyes "What would you know?"

"Maybe not much, but I do know that this is not going to make you feel better Sam." I replied firmly. Dean came back again, distracting Sam, and I took the opportunity to snatch the bottle away. I screwed on the cap and stuffed it back in the bag. Looking at the kicked-puppy expression on my big brother's face made me feel guilty for being hard on him, but the only thing on the planet I could trust entirely, other than my brothers, were my instincts, and they were telling me that it was what Sam needed.  
I looked at Dean then, and saw that he was holding a big-ass black umbrella, and I was a touch less annoyed at him for wandering off again. Sam picked himself up and dragged himself lethargically over to the bed, where he attempted to put on his tie. However, the shaking of his hands made the task almost impossible. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, so I was glad when Dean took the decision away and went over himself. Sam seemed determined to do it himself, but he didn't put up much of a fight when Dean pulled the tie from between Sam's fingers.

"Stand up buddy." Dean directed softly. Sam obeyed, but I suspected that it stemmed more from a lifetime of doing what Dean said than consciously choosing to do it now. I could hear Dean talking gently to Sam, but I tried not to listen to what was being said, because they were a part of a moment that I wasn't involved in, but as long as it made Sam feel better, I didn't mind being left out for a while. When Sam's tie was done, Dean helped him into his jacket, and the inevitable moment had arrived: it was time to leave.

The car ride was icy and verging on suffocating. I sat in the backseat, playing with the hem of my cardigan, wishing the day could be over.

I kind of shut off during the ceremony. Sam was rigid and distant, and just like when I was little, and didn't know what else to do, I mirrored my big brother. All my life, Sam and Dean had made me feel safe, but in different ways. Though I had no doubts that Sam could and would keep me from danger, it was Dean that made me feel physically safe, like nothing and no one could hurt me when he was around. Sam made me feel... I suppose 'spiritually' safe is the closest way to describe it, though I'm not sure that's really it either. He taught me to write my name, how to make friends, how to talk to people without wanting the ground to swallow me whole and drop me in the safety net of my brothers. When I needed help with my homework it was Sam I called, and when I needed advice, it was Sam I went to. Sam was the only reason I could function in the real world, where fairytales and folk lore stayed on the pages of books and behind the glass of TV screens. Sam knew what normal was because it was the only thing in the world he'd ever wanted.

And he had to watch the last semblance of that normality be lowered into the ground.

The funeral ended, and before Sam had the chance to escape, Jess's mother caught hold of him. They exchanged small-talk, and Mrs Moore asked if he was going back to their house with everyone else. I could see in Sam's face that although it was the last thing he wanted, he didn't have the heart to say no to the small, damaged woman in front of him, so he nodded, and told her we'd follow in the impala.

We got there a little while after everyone else. Sam seemed to be stalling, but I wasn't sure which one he thought was the better option; stay at the cemetery, or go to the Moore's.

Before we even walked in through the door, I could see a glazed over look in Sam's eyes, and I hoped that wherever he was-because he certainly wasn't with us, not really- it was nice. People came up to him, and Sam looked overwhelmed for a while, even around people he had known for a long time. Sam wasn't one for wasting words, and apparently, with his friends was no exception, though they kept talking to him like they were expecting him to be fine, and I couldn't help but think that for college student, they were being pretty dumb.

For the most part, Sam was stoic to the point of being cold, and in the end, people just stopped talking to him. For a while it annoyed me that people- Sam's friends- would walk right by him without much more than a glance, but then I remembered that they just didn't know Sam as well as Dean and I did. They couldn't see that he wasn't ignoring them to be rude, but being distant was the only way Sam knew to protect himself from the pain that was threatening to break through his barriers.  
We didn't stay long. After a while there wasn't a lot of point, and honestly, I wasn't sure how much Sam could take of being there, surrounded by people who were just as sad as he was. Our exit took a lot of people by surprise, including Dean and I. One minute, Sam was listening-or at least pretending- to one of his friends from Stanford, and the next, he had broke away mid-sentence and ushered me and Dean out the door. Halfway down the path away from the house, Sam took me by the elbow, like I wasn't moving quite fast enough.

By the time we got to the impala-parked a little way down the street, since there were a lot of other cars outside the house- Sam's breaths were short and shallow, and Dean had to sit with his hand cupped around the nape of Sam's neck, while I gently ran my fingers through his hair to calm him down some.

For as long as I could remember, I'd been a strong believer in karma. I honestly believed that what goes around, comes around, and people got what they deserved. Not anymore. There was no way in this world or any other that Sammy had ever done anything to warrant the pain and torment he was experiencing. He wasn't capable of it. Whatever sick and messed up being was in charge of pain distribution had made some serious mistakes, and I wanted to punch it right again.

I don't know if it was our mood, or my imagination or what, but the motel room seemed colder by the time we got back. Sam mumbled over his shoulder and went straight through to the bathroom. Dean slipped off his jacket, yanked off his tie and threw himself on the bed. I was desperate to get out of the dress, so I pulled on a pair of jeans underneath, bundled myself into one of Dean's over-sized shirts and slipped the dress off underneath. It felt good to be out of it, like I was one step closer to things getting back to normal, whatever the hell that was anymore.

I felt like the room was getting smaller by the second, and I needed to get out.

"You want any dinner?" I asked Dean as he started rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

"Sure," he shrugged "I'll go."

"No," I answered quickly "I want a walk."

Dean raised his eyebrows at me, silently asking '_Are you ok?'_, and I shot him a smile that said '_No, but I can pretend, right?'_.

Regardless, Dean nodded, so I grabbed a jacket and headed out the door.

I felt a bit better the second I closed the door, and I let myself enjoy the walk to the diner down the street. There was a queue, but I didn't really mind until I saw the sky start to darken outside. It was easy to forget that it was still only November, and the miserable weather wasn't helping. It was fully dark by the time I left again, and I suddenly wasn't so eager to dawdle and drag out the walk back to the motel. It wasn't that I was scared-I hadn't been scared of the dark for a long time- but I hadn't thought to bring my knife or anything vaguely useful with me, so I didn't want to hang around.

I'd expected Dean to still be on the bed when I walked in, maybe with the TV on, but he wasn't. He was standing outside the bathroom door, trying to convince Sam to come out.

"Come on Sammy," he cooed gently through the wood "You've been in there a while now buddy."

I stood for a second, waiting to see if it had worked, but there was barely any movement coming from the bathroom. Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"Le," he whispered "Help me out over here, huh?"

If Sam wasn't coming out for Dean, there was virtually no chance of him listening to me, but I thought I might as well give it a try. I shrugged off my jacket, tossed it onto the bed and crossed over to stand next to Dean. Gingerly, I knocked on the door.

"Sam?" No answer "I know you don't wanna talk right now." I tried dismally "I don't really want to either, so maybe all three of could not talk together? Out here."

There was a long second of silence, and Dean went and sat back on the bed, leaning against the headboard. I was about to join him, seeing no point in badgering Sam anymore, but the lock on the door clicked, and it creaked open an inch. Sam peered out, and I gave him a small smile. I realised that that was what Sam had been worried about-having to talk. With the promise of silence, at least he could go to bed and try to sleep if he wanted to.

He wouldn't though. Sam wasn't lucky enough to be granted the oblivion that unconsciousness would bring. He had the Winchester name, after all.

Sam did surprise me though, by clambering onto the bed next to Dean. He hadn't done that for years. If Dean was taken aback by Sam's sudden proximity, he didn't show it. He simply moved over a little so that Sam had more room, like it was no big deal that his twenty-two year old, not so little brother was sat so close he was almost on his lap.

What did faze Dean, however, was the crying. I don't think Sam meant to start, I really don't, but I can't imagine it was something he really had much control over. It was quiet at first, and I didn't notice it until I could hear Sam's stifled sobs in Dean's shirt, and Dean shushing him softly. I felt naked and exposed, standing on the other side of the room, and I'd never felt further away from my brothers, even when it was feet rather than miles that separated us. I went over and perched myself on the edge of the bed and put my hand on Sam's arm. He reached over and gripped my hand, pulling me closer, and I ended up lying on the bed too.

I don't know how long exactly we stayed like that. Somewhere in the early hours of the morning, when the sun was dragging itself into the sky and bleeding orange and pink and red, we fell asleep; all three of us in one single bed with Sammy, the biggest of us all, wedged in between. I know that's where I'd always felt safest when I was younger, in between my brothers, and I hoped that's how it made Sam feel now, when he needed it the most.

It was late morning when we got up. The only thing Sam said was 'I think we can leave now', and an hour later, you'd wouldn't have known we'd even been there. Sam was adamant that we needed to go to Blackwater Ridge, where Dad's coordinates pointed. I had no idea what was there, if there was anything at all.

I only hoped that wherever Dad was sending us, whatever craziness we were headed towards, it was worth it.

* * *

_**A/N 2: I know I kind of skipped over the actual funeral itself, but I thought that in the bigger picture of the story, the actual funeral wasn't that important. The story was about how Dean and Lena helped Sam get through Jess's death, and since it was told purely from Lena's POV, and she said she kind of shut off, I couldn't write what Lena didn't see :D Let me know what you think!**_

_**xxx**_


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